


Even the Wizards: side stories

by GammaCavy



Series: Agent of Truth [2]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-30 10:48:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 10,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3933919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GammaCavy/pseuds/GammaCavy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Side stories for Even the Wizards Must Pay Their Due</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Roy

Hughes might be my best friend, but sometimes it’s hard to avoid setting his photos on fire, I mused as yet another was shoved in my face. I’d long ago learned to tune out most of his babble, but if I didn’t keep at least half an ear on it he tended to surprise me with questions about what I think of this or that titbit of Elysia’s progress. When I was unable to answer he would subject me to the full set of pictures, _again_.

A familiar stomping tread reached my ears from the hall. _Ah, Fullmetal’s back_. Back and angry, judging from the stomping. The door slammed into the wall, and the dulcet tones of my youngest subordinate reached my ears. “ Hey! Bastard Colonel! Al and I just rescued a kid. You’re helping us find a place to stay. And that lead was a total dead end. I am never going Outside again, everyone there is too stupid to live! And they’ve all bought into this cult thing where they do alchemy through twigs and call it magic!”

Someday I should make him fix the dents his method of announcing himself causes when the doorknob hits the wall, but I haven’t done so yet. My first thought upon seeing him was definitely not _rescue_ ,* but I was glad to see him. So he didn’t think much of the outsiders’ _wizards_ either. No one does, what with their ignorance of Equivalent Exchange.   
  
“Well that’s why we’ve left the Xerxesian barrier up; even Xing agrees that the Outsiders are stupid, and they have one of the anchoring arrays just offshore.” I answered. Then the other half of what Fullmetal said sank in and I did my best to conceal my shock. What did he say about a kid?

I was so surprised that I barely registered his response. He should mutter more often, it makes a nice change from the usual yelling.

The giant suit of armor that was his younger brother entered at that moment.

 _I wonder if I should feel sorry for whatever fool encountered Fullmetal’s particular brand of mayhem._ I thought. Since Fullmetal’s mayhem tended to include his ability to transmute with a simple clap of the hands, and rearranging the landscape/architecture/ whatever was in his way, and he had more than once been known to trap whoever incurred his ire in a giant fist made of stone, this was reasonable. Then I thought again. _Nope. He usually has a good reason for mayhem, and I don’t have to pay for it this time. Hmm… I wonder how long before he realizes that I only need the bills for his damage to track him, and I don’t spy on him at all hours?_ Not that spying on him would be appealing anyway. I have better things to do with my time; such as think of new ways to rile him up, track leads to help those two, dream about Riza, and plot my ascension to Fuhrer…

“This is Harry. We rescued him.” He was acting out again. Damn, it was going to be One of Those Days. Did he have a scorecard or something? That would be childish, and one would expect better of the youngest state alchemist in history, even if he is twelve. He goes out of his way to annoy me, which is just unreasonable. I never did anything to him.

By then I had conveniently forgotten the incident with the train hijackers, the general, and the Elrics.**

“You rescued a kid? I want details. Fullmetal, give me a _short_ summary of your report,” I said. Mount Edward blew. Even if it did make my Hughes induced headache worse, score one for me!

In the next moment I almost felt sorry for Fullmetal as Hughes shoved the photos of Elysia at him. There are only so many baby pictures one can stand, especially of the baby that’s eating. It’s just wrong to see Gracia like that! Riza is the only one for me. Or the baby in the bath. I hope the new camera cost him something, I thought vengefully.

“Al was cuter,” Fullmetal said, and the room froze. Unable to resist I turned towards Al, as did everyone else. Fullmetal contradicted Hughes over the words _Elysia_ and _cute_. It’s an unwritten rule: don’t contradict Hughes over the baby pictures! But Fullmetal just did. Is he insane?

The child, Harry? stirred at that point, and Al took him down to the cafeteria for some food, at which point we demanded an explanation. Fullmetal obliged, in his own inimitable fashion. “The people Outside are divided, alchemists hide from non-alchemists, they do alchemy through _sticks_ and call it magic, and there was some terrorist who didn’t like people who weren’t born to alchemy learning it.”

Well that was… _strange._

“The kid’s credited with stopping the terrorist when he was one, even though his parents probably did it, and the old bastard everyone looks up to so much that he might as well be officially in charge, decided the kid was an important weapon and dropped him with abusive relatives, planning to swoop in and _rescue_ him in about six years. The old guy was the only one who might know where the stone was so I went to ask him politely,”

I suppressed a snort. Fullmetal was rarely polite. He was polite to Riza, but most of the time I wondered about his lack of manners. One would think he’d been raised by wolves! Just how _polite_ had he been? Slightly less evil tempered than usual?

“But he decided he wanted a pet alchemist and tried to make me a slave so I stuck him to the wall, took the kid, and came back.” The younger alchemist paused, looking dreamy. I hoped to never see that look on his face again unless the Philosophers Stone was inches from his face at the time. It was disturbing. “I wonder how long it’ll take them to get him out of the wall…”

I squelched the impulsive rage that anyone would try to _enslave_ one of  my subordinates, much less the youngest one. Fullmetal could not only take care of himself, but was capable of causing trouble for me if he thought I was protecting him, and then he’d demand I take care of myself. I spoke up, covering my lapse, “Someone actually thought they could take you by force? You’d better not have given me more paperwork, Fullmetal.”

“Edward, what are you going to do with a small child?” Riza broke in.

Fullmetal’s answer was very unhelpful. “We’re gonna take care of him,” as if it were that simple. As I thought through the implications of him being responsible for a child, even with Al to help, I winced. I could see the kid, ten years on, bringing home twice as many strays as Al, backing Fullmetal up with the mayhem instead of trying reason first like Al, and throwing off sparkles. Wait, what? How did sparkles get there?

Shuddering, I resolved to never let the child meet Armstrong.

After a long silence Hughes, ever irrepressible, broke the silence with, “Well, you’re staying with me and Gracia while you work things out. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind taking care of him long term if you need somewhere for him to stay while you travel.”

“ _Thank you_ Hughes,” I said, reserving my doubts about the lovely Gracia’s reaction to being informed that her husband volunteered them to adopt Fullmetal’s newest stray.

“Oh it’s no problem, besides, _it’ll be good practice for when Elysia grows up!”_ Damn! I thought I was safe, but nooo, he had to come back around to the topic of Elysia! I resigned myself to my sad and sorry fate.

Fullmetal vanished, the traitor, as Hughes produced more photos. And Riza, how could you abandon me! _“And I need to show you the rest of the pictures!”_ my best friend squealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Yes it was. He just won’t admit it.   
> **Fullmetal Alchemist series one, episode five.


	2. Prince Yao

**A transcript of the rumors percolating amongst the populace of Xing, in the Year of the Sage 415, to 418, surrounding Prince Yao, the immortal.**

 

_Prince Yao has returned_ , came the whisper of rumor. _Prince Ling has aligned with the Changs,_ came the second rumor, hard on the heels of the first one _. Prince Yao’s guard has a silver hand,_ came the next one, which puzzled many. Then came the loudest rumor: _Prince Ling has discovered the secret of immortality! Someone tried to assassinate him on the road and he took a knife to the heart, only to stand up again._

Nobody believed the last two until Prince Yao returned to the capitol, with Mei Chang by his side, and calmly informed the emperor and his council, “I found it. I have discovered Immortality.”

Reportedly, one of the advisors had snorted at this, and Prince Ling had been asked to explain further.

The prince’s eves had opened then, cold and violet, as his right hand had turned grey and clawed. “Normally, I’d just ask someone to kill me,” he said, and his voice was smooth and deadly, “but LanFan gets all upset if I do.” The claws dug into his chest, there was a crunch of bone, and a wet sound, followed by a gush of blood. He fell to the floor, then in a torrent of red light, the wound sealed itself, and he stood up again. “That’s the fourth time I’ve died. Proof enough?”

He’d been declared crown prince the next day.

Reports of shouting from the palace in the voices of Prince Ling and his imperial father remained unproven.

 After that, things were relatively quiet, until his royal father’s death and his ascension to the throne. The first thing he did was declare Mei Chang his royal alkahestrist. The second thing he did was ask his guard, LanFan, to marry him.

There were protests, of course, but somehow no one could argue with him when he opened his eyes, showing the unnatural purple, and spoke quietly but firmly, with a note to his voice like a barely contained snarl, that was anything but human.

In the upheaval following that, a young man arrived from the west, was greeted gladly by Emperor Ling Yao, and began to meet daily with the Chang princess. The servants whispered about him, and his golden blond hair, wondering if the Sage of the West had looked like this.

More sensible people said of course not, even if this Alphonse Elric’s eyes were a kind of greenish gold. It was known that there were Amestrians with such features, after all, and the Sage had been described as like a statue of gold come to life.

Then during court, a letter came for Alphonse (just call me Al) Elric, and the messenger said that it was urgent. There was a quiet exchange in Amestrian between the emperor and Al, as the Amestrian read the letter. Emperor Ling said something questioning, peered over his guest’s shoulder at the letter, cheered, and declared that he was going to visit Amestris.

Naturally the advisors had fits over this, but Emperor Ling would not be deterred from going to the wedding of someone he referred to as “man who fed a shoe to the emperor,” and Emperor Ling always got his way in the end, whether or not he had to open his eyes to get it.

News came back ahead of the emperor. Mei Chang and Alphonse Elric were to be married, and many guests were coming to the wedding. The entourage returned, with many additions that were there to stand with Alphonse Elric, but the people of Xing gathered from their talk that someone was not there who was supposed to be. 

As the feast in celebration of the official announcement of the betrothal began; shamefully late, what with the wedding scheduled for the next day; many watchers were puzzled. The Emperor headed the table, with his wife beside him, and his sister and her beloved one seat away from him, and the Amestrian delegation taking up most of that end of the table, but there was a gap at the emperor’s right hand. 

Fire flared behind the Emperor, hands went to knives, and Amestrians aimed suspicious looks at a man who bore something of a resemblance to Emperor Ling. He spread white gloved hands and shrugged. “It’s not me, this time.”  

As the fire faded, a young man became visible in the flames, clad in red, with golden hair tied in a braid, and a magnificent scarlet and gold bird perched on his shoulder.

He took the empty chair, and the feast began, with delighted exclamations from Ling and Alphonse (just call me Al) Elric.

That night gossip flowed like rivers. It seemed the man of fire was named Edward, he was Al’s elder brother, he had an arm made of metal, _and_ , this was said in tones of hushed awe, the bird on his arm was the Fenghuang, the Phoenix; Areal, the rumors said her name was when Al had addressed her in thanks for bringing his brother, the immortal bird of flames. 

The rumors the next day were more amazing still. He called the emperor Idiot Prince, and the honored phoenix _Goldie_ ; he had aided the Emperor in gaining immortality; he was the one who had rebuilt the nation of Xerxes in one day; his hair and eyes were as golden as the feathers of the phoenix; and his eyes were lit with an inner fire, a fire that permeated his being, and radiated from his presence, a sense that he was more real than the rest of the world.

Even the doubters could not deny his resemblance to the Sage, as if a statue of gold had come to life, a resemblance that was confirmed to be fact when an enterprising maidservant asked how he came to resemble so strongly the creator of Alkahestry.

His answer was confused, rather rude, and stated that the Sage was his father.

Greatly daring she asked if this meant he too was immortal, as legend said the Sage was, and must truly be, for him to have a son who was only now nearing his twentieth year.  

Reports were that her ears had yet to recover.


	3. Beginnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because Ed has a fire in him that neither of his parents had, understands Equivalent Exchange at a deeper level than anyone else, and brings truth with him, striping away lies and illusions. So where did he come from?

It watched.

 It worried, and it planned.

It only had two alchemists, and neither would be suitable for what it needed. But it did have other options, other souls it had touched. As its course of action became clear, it smiled, and reached out, drawing a soul-spark to it. One it had touched before.

_Hohenheim noticed one of the voices vanishing, but was distracted by Trisha’s announcement.  Those two words that turned his whole world upside down. “I’m pregnant.”_

 It shaped the spark with ease, belying the fact that it had never done anything like this before. This was good material to work with, malleable and already its, halfway forged into what it needed, simply from the existence it had been summoned from.   

But its counter and answer needed to be more than human, so it forged in a spark of its own awareness, adding immutable awareness of the Law to its creation. As its creation was completed, it felt something of itself bind to the soul it worked with, and Truth smiled. Not its usual Grin, the one interlopers in its domain saw, but a proper, fond, pleased smile, sparked by the spark it was shaping. Its creation. Gate-child.

Truth had done what it set out to do, but found itself reluctant to let go of its creation.  Still, it did, and aimed the spark to the empty body crafted by nature and one of its alchemists. Far from that which it worked against, so its child could grow untainted by that it worked against, undiscovered by the enemy. Wild life to give its child strength, and a place near the edge of the taint the Traitor had caused, to grow more in tune with the Law it made.

As the spark sank into the chosen unborn infant, Truth wondered in passing, when it had begun to think of this countermeasure as its child.

 An instant, or an eternity later, (ten years) Truth’s child returned to it,  defying it’s Laws, and Truth was disappointed and angered.  But then, it reasoned, why should this one be any different than the Traitor? If it was perhaps harsher than its normal way, when it sent the child through the gate, that meant nothing. It had even paused to speak with this one, after all. If Truth were capable of lying to itself it would have told itself that this meant nothing, but it was not capable of such, and so admitted that it still wished to be lenient to this child, for how else could the countermeasure work as Truth planned?

The child emerged, and Truth inquired, “ _how was it?”_ hoping that the look at the True Knowledge might have awakened the countermeasure’s sense of the Law enough that the child would cease to be so foolish. How had its creation been so foolish to begin with?

The child turned back to the Gate. “I see. My theory of human transmutation wasn’t wrong, it can be done, it’s possible. It’s still just missing something.”

If Truth had been grinning its ever present grin at the moment, instead of being featureless in disappointment, Truth’s jaw would have dropped. “All of the answers I need are right here! Please, you have to show it to me again!”

It was pleased and surprised at once. The child did understand some things then, but still, the Law that Truth was and kept, demanded a price. Still, Truth would be as lenient as it could. The countermeasure must live to counter the Traitor, even if that meant that the proper Toll would be taken for the most part from the human that had acted with the countermeasure in standing against the Law. Still, something would have to be taken from the countermeasure, or balance would not be served. _“I can’t do that,”_ it answered, standing. If things went as it thought they would— well human bodies could live without limbs, and the binding that it knew to be the way the countermeasure would respond would bring the child to other humans, humans who could mend it.  _“I’ve already shown you all I can for the Toll you’ve paid.”_

“Toll? What Toll?”  The child was so ignorant in the surface of its mind of what it knew in the depths of its Self, the Self that Truth had shaped. It was endearing.

 _“This”_ Truth said, as the leg was taken from the countermeasure and appeared on the form Truth was using to interact with its child. No, not merely it’s child now. _“Surely you knew? It’s the law of Equivalent Exchange, right, young Al-Che-Mist?”_

Truth’s alchemist. Now and always.

And things played out as Truth had guessed, and better than Truth had hoped. It was so proud of its child the day that the young Alchemist came to it after returning the Traitor, and came bringing the Answer. Truth worked against its Law that day, bending the rule with leftover Equivalence and a renewed Toll, and gave All to the One who had at last done what it wished.

Truth’s Hand. Truth’s alchemist. Edward Elric.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos to anyone who figured out the narrator before I said it was Truth.


	4. Areal

She had always been alone. True, there was the one she served, the Decider, but she had been before any other life in the place of her birth. At least, she thought she had been born there, on the plane of flames and molten rock, born _from_ the flaming rock, and she had danced in the flames, singing for the joy of existence. Areal, she named herself, a simple trill of song, and went about Truth’s business in a flash of flames, doing as it bade her.  
  
 She knew that she was old beyond mortals’ ability to count, but it had never bothered her. She was what she was.  Phoenix, they named her, Bennu, Lifebringer, Fenghuang, Suzaku, Firebird, Akitori, Houoh, Eldest, and she preened at the last one for it was true. She was old before other life, but inside her came a niggling desire to be called by name. Even the Decider didn’t use her name. Then again, the Decider rarely used words, simply conveying the information of where she was needed and why. Those who have seen her think her gentle, and those she has healed think that must be all that she is: A bird of magic, but a bird nonetheless.

They were wrong. She is the giver of life and bringer of healing to those she may aid, but she is first the Agent of Truth and has brought about death. She moves through Truth’s plane in fire, and has gilded her talons on upstarts who are her task. She is life, and she is death and rebirth, she brings peace, but wars have been fought over her, all unknowing that she served something far greater than they who seek her.

She is lonely. The mortals have many legends of creatures like her, but she is the only True one, and while she has kept company with mortals when so ordered, be it to encourage them or deny them something, they knew only the Phoenix. Not _Areal_.  So she sits on the gilded perch her latest task has brought her, watching the human she must keep from taking hold of Truth’s stone, when the fire in her flares up and up and up, and she burns early and from her ashes watches the boy with hair a gold she has not seen in so very long, and eyes like her own, and power that echoes of the Decider, and she wonders why an alchemist has come here. Is it time for the debt this people owe to come due?

No, the portal remains.

When the boy goes, her assignment has been bound by alchemy in his wall, and the alchemy bore the Decider’s touch. What was it planning?  Had she not just burned she would have flown to him, duty forgotten.

On the horrible day when her power is dimmed, she knows that the Day of Reckoning with the Traitor has begun. But here she must remain, guiding her assignment to his Toll. Ok, and vanishing to be a mascot for their ridiculous games. Even her near infinite patience has its limits with _this_ assignment.

At last, it was time. She laughed.

She brought them to the city. The very stone of the buildings rang with the Decider’s power, and she admires the murals, knowing the skill of alchemy it took from even one of Truth’s Alchemists to do this. Besides, she gets a good look at the Homunculus War this way.

* * *

 

His presence is a fire the match of her own. How many times has this human been to the Gate? She flies to him like to a beacon. He is a match for her, and the Decider’s touch is strong on him. It is on his brother too, and lightly on the man and woman, but the homunculus carries it too. Why is he here? Why does he live?

And the Toll is taken through the last homunculus, and the boy the Decider spoke through knows her name. Areal, he calls her, and when the wizards are returned to die she flames back to the human who feels like kin, knows her name, and bears Truth’s touch, singing in joy and triumph.

After so long unheard her name is precious, and rarely spoken. Goldie will do, as long as he does not forget.  She is Phoenix. She is Fenghuang, she is Lifegiver and Deathdealer, Bennu, Firebird, and Hou-oh. She is Akitori, and Suzaku, and now she is Goldie as well. She is Areal, and she is no longer alone.

She is not alone. Not with him by her side, knowing her name.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I know the tenses wander. It is deliberate. Areal is very old, existed before language was invented, and primarily communicates with Truth, which doesn't use words very often. I'm not even sure if she has the concept of tenses. Hope this wasn't too confusing to read.


	5. Ling 1: The first death

Ling knew more of what he was getting into when he accepted Greed than anyone, including Greed, thought he did. He _had_ seen Envy’s revolting true form, after all, and he knew the secret of the stone, and accepted the risk of becoming nothing more than fuel for the homunculus as his only chance of perhaps getting out of this alive.

 So he took it, and gave over control, and began to slowly wind himself into Greed. The best way to take what he wanted was to not let the homunculus _know_ he was taking it.

 The storm screamed and wailed around him, long dead Xerxesians trying to devour him, to make him one of them, and he shuddered from the glimpses he got of their minds. What was left of them anyway, and it was no wonder the homunculi were marked by the serpent devouring itself, when this ever devouring mass lay at the core of their being.

He slithered between them like an eel when Greed thought to look for him, concealing himself as one of them, letting go of the less important memories, like the taste of spiced meat, or the feel of water on his skin as he held to the things that were most important. _(He lets go of food most easily. That, at least, the homunculus does need, and when he does Ling surges up, experiencing it as well, if at a remove.)_ And day by day he wound himself further into Greed.

The first death came as a shock. Greed had been injured before, but that had been minor. This was anything but.

Greed had slipped from where they clung to a wall, climbing, as his taste for heights had been one of the first things Ling had wound into the homunculus, and they fell.

Headfirst.

  _He_ would have twisted and grabbed for the pipe to slow himself, then a flagpole, then used his momentum to launch himself to the opposing pole, and from there resumed the climb. Greed, however, fell like a stone.

There was pain, and blackness, and in that moment he lost all sense of his body, and the homunculus, and there was only the vortex. Before, even as he eeled among the mad Xerxesians, he had been aware of his body and what the homunculus did with it.

Not now. He hung there for what seemed an eternity, although he knew it was only moments, and as he hung the whirling grew more frenzied, the screaming faded, and the souls seemed to be pushing at each other. He was aware, as two faded, of the sense of triumph they emanated and the disappointment of the others.

Hastily, he pulled his mental shields back up as they remembered him, now that the chance of escape, of final, permanent death, was over. Awareness returned as the homunculus wearily picked himself up from a Ling shaped crater, and as Ling returned to winding himself into Greed, he realized with a sense of dread that there had been a few moments between Greed’s revival and his awareness returning.

From then on he clung like a leech, oozing bits of himself in here and there, because his body might have the reflexes for a fight and a fall, but Greed didn't know how to use them. He _refused_ to suffer that again.


	6. Ling 2: Together with Greed

When Greed's memories returned and they fought Wrath, it was Greed who slashed and called on the shield, but it was Ling who dodged and leaped, and neither of them knew who had jumped out the window, bitterly satisfied with the fact that if they couldn’t kill him they had given him the fight of his life and broken one of his swords. If Pride hadn’t been there-

But that didn’t matter. For now they had to hide, somewhere the others wouldn’t know where to look, somewhere away from strong light, so Pride couldn’t find them.

And Ling knew a place, and rejoicing in the ability to choose where to go and how to move, he took them there. He was more relived than he let on when Ed was there as well, and he was definitely touched when Ed offered Greed the option to join him, even thought he knew it was useless. When Ed ran after them calling his name, though, he had never been more surprised. He really shouldn’t have been. This was Ed after all. And it’s nice to hear his name again.

Ling was touched, relieved, and concerned all at once when Ed demanded to come with them, and he could tell Greed was surprised as well. The homunculus might not admit it, but he _wanted_ the company as much as he wanted anything else, and no-matter how hard he tried to deny it, he couldn’t keep it from Ling.

So they traveled. Ling commented at one point that it was interesting that Greed was supposed to be in charge, when Ed made all the important decisions. Greed told him to shut up. Ling rolled his eyes and did so— for a while.

Actually that was the routine most days. Ling was glad that Greed didn’t seem to notice the Ling-thoughts creeping into his, or believed them to be his own. He was coming to like Greed, but still, how could his plan succeed if Greed knew what he was doing?

Two months into their travel with Ed, Ling became aware of the consequence of his plan. Just as his desires had become a significant portion of Greed’s desire, the reverse was also happening.  He’d caught Greed thinking about the throne of Xing, and squashed the sense of triumph rather than let the homunculus know he felt it, but he had later found himself nostalgic and grieving for Greed’s friends. Heh. Equivalent Exchange.

Another month passed. They noticed Ed always knew who has control of Ling’s body –Greed’s body— ok their shared body, even when Greed did the prince’s squint, and they would understand if he had that weird-ass sensing ability (dragons pulse!) but he doesn’t. So one day they decided to ask. His reply capital-W-capital-H Wasn’t Helpful.

"I met both of you on your own. But even if I hadn’t... you're different. You’re different when you're Ling than when you're Greed."

"How did you know Greed on his own?" Ling asked.

Ed shrugged. "Yanno, I never thought a seven foot tall suit of armor could get kidnapped." 

And that was all he said on the matter, leaving them to wonder, and hope the memory would come back to Greed soon. 


	7. Ling and Greed, on Fathers

The Day approached, and they went to Resembul, and there they had really good apple pie. Oh, and met Winry. Sure, Ling had met her once, but it was interesting to both of them, seeing the way the alchemist and his mechanic( _cough girlfriend cough)_ interacted. Then they were off again.

And looking for Ed’s father this time. Ling thought it said something about himself and Greed that their immediate reaction to Ed’s father was shock, because of his resemblance to Greed’s father, and then their thought was _nice punch_. It sent the man flying several feet and he was clearly going to feel it in the morning, since it was the right hand. Their opinion of the man dropped even further when he had the nerve to _whine_ about it, when Ed had very good reasons for the punch.  Ling wanted to give him another one, but Greed thought it was a better idea not to. Greed being the voice of reason was _weird._

_And that thought had far too much of the little runt’s word choice in it._

_Shut it Greed._

So they listened to the man’s story, and were appalled, but unwilling to forgive him for leaving Ed and Al behind. Greed felt scorn for anyone who possessed those boys and turned his back on them, and Ling just felt anger.

After Ed gave the message and they changed the subject, Ling thought _pointedly_ at Greed. The homunculus thought it was good idea, and it was Ling who vanished into the night, returning to Ed’s father.

“So you’re Ed’s rotten, no good, runaway, cowardly bastard of a father?”

“That’s rather harsh," the man said mildly.

Ling shrugged and Greed spread his hands. "Edward said it first. Still, I’d call it as I see it."

"Oh? And why should a homunculus know or care about such things."

"Because I care about Ed." The ‘unlike you’ was implied, but he wouldn’t say it yet.

“While I admit I’m grateful to you for looking after _my_ son, I see no reason to trust that you have his best interests at heart.”

“Same here, old man,” Greed said with Lings mouth. “We’ve been together for four months and Ed’s still in one piece. I don’t see you doing anything to make up for leaving him. He’s _mine_ now. ”

“ _You_ need him alive until the Day of Reckoning. Just because he isn’t dead, doesn’t mean you have good intentions for him.”

Ling shoved Greed to the back. “You seem,” he said in his native language, —the man was the Western Sage, he should be able to speak it— “To be under the mistaken impression that I serve the father of the homunculi.” Ed’s father looked shocked.

“You speak—”

“I am not one of them. _I_ am Ed’s friend. Greed cares for him as I do, and we stand on the side of the world remaining alive. We have no desire to see him dead.” Never had he been more grateful for the ability of his native language to be scathingly polite. Normally the waste of time got on his nerves, but now he needed it to make his point. Greed leaned back within, watching the show. Ling smirked slightly. “It seems something has disturbed your inner peace and tranquility. Might this royal one inquire as to the cause of this discomfort?”

“You may. This one does not desire to burden another with his selfish wants,” Ed’s father had an archaic accent, Ling noted absently, and his choice of words was clumsy. Still, he could play the game. “But a father cannot help but worry for his children when they are in the company of those who have been his enemies.”  

“One could say the same about one’s friends, in the company of a man who refused to return to his home, even when it caused the death of his beloved.” Ling responded neutrally. “How might one tell if that refusal would be enacted once again, harming one’s friend?”

“I would _never_ –” the man had slipped into an older language still, and where they overlapped Greed’s knowledge fed Ling the meaning of the words. “—harm my sons! I would die first!”

“As this one’s imperial grandfather, Emperor Wan, once said: one who causes harm is not given the right to decide what harm is.” Ling stated evenly. Greed applauded. “And how might one trust the words of the man who fled his kin before? Or is it not the case that you were gone for _ten years_?”

Shock painted itself on the face of Ed’s father. Remorselessly, Ling continued, “Then, when you did return, you spoke to harm him and departed with the dawn, never once showing remorse for the harm you caused. As to death? We know the meaning of such a promise from one to whom death is but an inconvenience. _We_ shall not harm our friend. We have yet to judge if we believe _you_ shall.  But you, who were foolish enough to run from what one of us left to seek, you who do not hear his answer, you may yet harm him, by intent or mishap.”

He backed up, melting into the shadows as Fu had taught him.  “We will not forgive that,” Greed’s voice crept into his own, and together they finished, “whoever or whatever may harm what is ours.” When both of them were trying to do the same thing at the same time, it was less a struggle for control and more a struggle to be faster _, faster_. And Ed said it was creepy, the dual tones of their sharing, which they were doing deliberately now, putting to great effect. They smirked again, and Ling relinquished control, allowing himself a smile the match of Greed’s on _his_ face, as the homunculus finished in the language the man had slipped into, “And any threat will be destroyed. Like Wrath said before he killed me, how many times do we have to kill you before you stay dead? We’ll be watching, old man. ”

Hohenheim stared into the night after them for a long time.


	8. Musings of an Alchemist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because Ed is extremely perceptive.

Hohenheim had a counter to that Bearded Bastard’s plan. Scar had a countermeasure too.  What idiots we were, to think that we were the only ones working against him. That Grinning White Bastard had a plan too. The Grinning White Bastard _was_ the one the Bearded Bastard was against after all; we were just a means to an end. Of course the white thing had a counter. It can’t work in this world freely except through Areal, so it needed something like her, but able to face homunculi…

Something that could do alchemy.  Something new, that would serve Truth’s interests. The array was almost complete, but I was still missing a few lines. Once I had the lines, then I’d see.

 It must have been really mad at the Bearded Bastard. I know how much I hate it when people try to ignore the law of equivalent exchange.

 I guess I know why, now.

Trying to ignore the law _I_ set to take _my_ power? It _really_ must’ve been furious with the Bearded Bastard. He never grew. Heh, Hohenheim was right about that much. When mortal creatures dare to play god, there must be a price for their arrogance. When a creature dares to take all the True Knowledge, and the power as well, as the Bearded Bastard did? There must be balance, a counterweight, something to undo the harm. It knew what that Bearded Bastard meant to do, I know. So it needed a counter. Something of the Gate and the world like the homunculus was.

I drew a long slow breath as the final line etched itself into the array.

Me.

Born to counter that Bearded Bastard. Passed the Gate more than any person alive should manage. Holding more of the True Knowledge than anyone, even though Al paid more than I did.

 The Gate curled in my mind. _(My alchemist is special)_ It’s very smug about this. _(Special-smart- younger-Decider. Mine. True-chooser.)_

I am _not_ the Decider of Equivalence. I'm only human dammit! Metal scraped against metal as I clenched my fist.

But once, I acknowledged, when the Outsiders came, for a minute I was Truth, and Truth was me.  Alchemists aren’t gods. We're the closest things to gods there are, but we're still human, we make mistakes, and when we fall our loved ones are there to pick us back up.

But I've been Truth, and Truth was me. It created me from a dead Xerxesian and itself. I've been a Philosophers Stone made of my own soul, and when I fought Pride the people trapped inside him went through me to the Gate. I remember the broken fragments of memory as they rushed through me, thousand splintered fragments of rocks and heat and grassland, the burning desert sun, a thousand shades of sun-warmed stone, shards of ancient hate and fear as the bruise-light and fog swallowed everything, fields and rocky plains and rivers, the glint of the sun on the golden roof of a palace I have only seen in ruin, the northern forests, the eastern desert, the things they remembered of Xerxes as they rushed through me. There is a reason I rebuilt the place, more than a giant 'screw you Bearded Bastard.'

 ...Okay, there was some of that too. Leaving the place ruined would be doing what that Rotten Bastard said I did, and letting the Bearded Bastard win. But after seeing what they remembered of it, before the desert took it? I can’t restore them, but I can make it that home once again.

And that Bearded Bastard will pay forever for what he did.  I _know_ what happened to him/it/whatever, what judgement was cast. Truth knew. So I know. _You stole your power from others, you rejected your human origins, and chose to covet the power of what you called God_. I recalled saying, and only with difficulty managed to separate _those_ memories from mine.

Yes. I know what happened to the homunculus.

The Ishvalans believe in something benevolent, forgiving, and all powerful, that will save them and punish their enemies. But there is only Truth, and the unseen flow. Once I said that the flow was of such magnitude, that we tiny insignificant humans couldn't begin to comprehend it. What child of eight could understand such a concept, much less come to the answer?

Let the Ishvalans have their lie. It’s a comforting one, until they're ready to face the truth.

But _I_ belong to Truth. My Gate talks and sniggers when I meet people who have it wrong. Truth worked through me when I rebuilt Xerxes. I'm only human, but I'm Truth’s counter as well. Alchemists are the closest things to gods there are _. I more so than most._

Al is entirely human. He doesn’t know what I am. Wake up Teacher, Colonel. Haven’t you figured it out yet? If going to the Gate more than once was all it took to count as something like Areal, why isn’t Al? Teacher too. I thought my bit of the Gate talked because I’d been there twice, but if so why don’t Al and Teacher have to deal with it?

Because it has to do with why I exist.

I guess I’d rather claim Truth than Hohenheim for a father, if I have a choice on it. That Rotten Bastard who walked out on us and never realized he’d done something he needed to make up for, who claimed to care, but even when it came to getting Al back offered the wrong price. It wasn’t Equivalent. Our price was our own. Between That Rotten Bastard and The Grinning White Bastard which’s never been anything but fair to me in its own way, I’d rather claim Truth. 

Heh. Wonder what this means for me in the end? I'm human, physically, but my life came from the Gate, and I know what Areal means when everyone else hears chirps. I won’t use this unless I have to. Hey, Grinning White Bastard, when you made me, did you think about what I’d do after That Bearded Bastard was gone? What am I?

But then, does it matter? Truth owes me, and whatever I am, I'm me. Fullmetal. Edward Elric. Al's older brother. Whatever else I am I’ve been it all my life. And if there are consequences, I'll take them as they come. I always do.

“Brother? Is something wrong?” Al’s so perceptive.

I turned and smiled at Al. “Nothing.” Within me the Gate turned around once, like Den does, and curled its tail around its paws. _Mine_ , it whispered. _My-alchemists brother, mineoursyours. True-choosers human-friend._

So Al is human then, and I’m alone. Good.  Whatever consequences there are of being whatever I am, he won’t have to face them.


	9. Dear readers, I'm sorry.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apology and farewell.

I am sorry. In the autumn of 2016, I suffered a concussion. While relatively minor, as such things go, it has had a lasting impact. Words escape me more and more frequently, and I am unable to grasp and do justice to the intelligence, energy, and charisma of Edward Elric. It has been two years since then, and I hoped I would recover the capacity to write for this world, but I have not. And so, this is goodbye. If ever a day comes when I am able to grasp him again, I will return to this universe, but for now… Farewell. I present my unfinished work as an apology.


	10. Fuhrer Bastard and Hawkeye?!-unfinished

It was on.

Fullmetal and Flame were having a legendary battle, the chosen weapon shouts at fifty paces. The office assistants had fled rather than be deafened by the warring alchemists.

 ** _“I’m telling you Bastard Colonel, you’re an idiot if you expect to get any good results from that! The alignment is off and you got the points wrong!”_** Yup, that was Fullmetal all right, as foul tempered as ever. The workers still remembered their surprise that this arrogant, loudmouthed pest was the Hero of the People. Yet, when he and his Excellency the Flame Alchemist weren’t having their monthly shouting match, he was a wonderful person to be around. Jean Havoc had once summed it up as ‘they both have tempers, they both get stressed, and it’s safe to take it out on each-other.’

Still, it was frightening to behold the battles.  As evidenced by Flame’s next shout: **_“How would you know? You never bother to draw your arrays. You rely on doing everything without an array, and that’s lazy!”_**

**_“Oh, I’m lazy? And when was the last time you drew an array then, huh?! Tell me?”_ **

The answer was not as clear, but still Flame’s reply had something about last week and Hayate’s bowl in it. Then there was a counterstrike about doors.

 ** _“It’s good practice! At least it would be if you ever bothered to fix it yourself!”_** Fullmetal’s scream resounded far enough that a few workers contemplated moving another floor away. Kain Fury, however simply turned the volume on his ‘boss and chief cam’ down a few more notches.

Then suddenly, the shouting ceased. Fury blushed and wondered if he had indeed heard what he thought he had.

Ed spluttered. Why did the Colonel have to ask _him_ this of all people? They had been in the middle of a pleasant argument, and then the Colonel had to interrupt the stress relief by asking _him_ how to ask Riza to marry him.

What the? Why isn’t he asking Hughes—oh. Because of the pictures. But why did he have to ask Ed? And _who the hell_ was Riza anyway?

The Gate sniggered and several bits of his life flashed into his mind. Mostly, reminding him that that was _Hawkeye’s_ name.  Mustang and Hawkeye? Hawkeye and _Mustang_? Horse-shit bastard Colonel and Hawkeye?!

And the Bastard Colonel had that tone that meant this was actually important too, damnit! Keep calm, keep calm! Hydrogen, helium, lithium, beryllium, carbon … “Buy her a really good gun.” Nitrogen, oxygen, fluorine, Aluminum, silicon, phosphorus, sulfur, chlorine, argon… hey, the Colonel was blushing! "Engrave her name and yours on it with alchemy, along with whatever other shit you think she'd like."

Ed fidgeted. …potassium, calcium, scandium,… “Then take her out someplace,” he began to scrape the mud off his boots onto the carpet in embarrassment, having already made the table and all the paper on it suitably muddy. “Somewhere she'd like.” …titanium, vanadium, chromium, manganese, iron, cobalt … “Since you were all stalking me 'n Winry anyway, you saw where I took her.” Nickel, copper, zinc, gallium,… _Shut up stupid,_ he growled at the Gate “Automail shops,  that kinda shit,” …germanium, arsenic, selenium, bromine, yttrium, zirconium, niobium, molybdenum… “Maybe a gun shop?”

 The silence as both alchemists looked anywhere but each other was thick. … Ruthenium, rubidium, palladium, silver, cadmium…“Then, end of the day, if she's had a good time, you get on your knee and give her the gun.” Indium, tin, antimony… Why was _he_ stuck giving the Colonel love advice?...tellurium, iodine, xenon, cesium, barium, hafnium…

Another pause.

"Well. Shouldn't I say something then, Fullmetal?"

Ed made a strangled noise. …tantalum, tungsten, rhenium, osmium, iridium, platinum… "Equivalence. Trade lives.”…gold, mercury, thallium, lead, bismuth, polonium… “Tell her if her life will be yours,” …radon, francium, and radium…“Then yours will be hers”.

Now _that_ made sense. Roy felt a surge of relief. He had been a bit nervous about asking Fullmetal for help, but Maes' advice hadn’t seemed right for Riza. Ed's advice fit and was something he understood.

There was long, awkward silence.

“Aw, damn, we're getting along.” Ed muttered.

“Ugh, you're right.”

“I'm going to need so much therapy.”

 “You already need therapy.”

“Not as much as you do, _Fuhrer_ Mustang.” The title fell off his tongue oddly.

The Colonel jerked. “Do _not_ call me that Fullmetal! I don’t mind Colonel, I can take Bastard, hell I'll even take horse-face! Anything but that.”

“So you don’t want me to use your hard earned title then?"

"Not from you, Fullmetal. Never from you. No one else would dare."

Ed smirked with demonic glee. "So you actually want me sticking pins in your ego? Officially?”

“I want,” Roy corrected, gritting his teeth, “things to stay the way they are without you being respectful and making me worry if Envy’s still alive!” Although, he wouldn’t deny that Fullmetal’s flippant disrespect was nice, knowing that Edward didn’t care about rank, but would give him an honest opinion, even if was rude. That was what made him such a good advisor.

And that was why he had asked for love advice.

 

Riza had enjoyed the outing once she was finished being suspicious with him, but he still worried. His heart was in his mouth as he knelt and presented her with the gun, and as she stared, he -remembering a few previous attempts- found himself blurting, "My life is yours! Will yours be mine? Equivalent Exchange!" 

She remained silent, staring at the gun, and the resulting silence was so thick that a ten ton boulder would have fallen like a feather. 

In an odd voice, she asked, "Who did you go to for advice on this?"

Was he about to die? "Fullmetal." Roy answered, staring at her feet.

"Ah."

Suddenly he was jerked to his feet and being kissed senseless. Maybe he should ask Fullmetal for advice more often?

A familiar ringing chime rang out, and the ground flowed, reshaping. When he was done stumbling, the ground was black, a mound had risen, and Ed was smirking **_his_** _trademark smirk!_  “Congratulations, Fuhrer Bastard. She said yes!” golden eyes were examining the mound triumphantly. With a sinking feeling, Roy turned. On its side, in letters fifty feel long and three feet deep were the words Edward had just spoken.


	11. the ruins-unfinished

**_A continuation of the rumors in Xing and Amestris during the Year of the Sage 415 to 418, and 1915 P.E (Post Empire of Xerxes.)_ **

There was light in the sky. Light in the desert, and many people in Xing recalled the red light that had shone over Amestris a year prior, when they had fallen unconscious, and though this light was blue, not red, they regarded it with fear. The earth shook as the pillar of blue-white light pierced the heavens in the western desert. The sun was bright, but the blaze put the sun to shame, casting unnatural shadows over everything. Delegations besieged the rulers of both nations as the light blazed in the dessert. To the dismay of the people of Xing, Emperor Ling exited the palace, looked to the west, shaded his eyes with his hand, laughed, and declared in tones of great amusement, “Showoff.” Then he turned to his Chang sister. “Ed, or Al?”

“My Alphonse would never waste such large amounts of chi!” Princess Chang answered, and her pet panda growled an agreement.

The emperor snickered. “Yeah, I thought it was Ed too.” Then he surveyed the delegation as a particularly large tremor shook the ground.  “No need to be frightened. It’s just the son of the Western Sage being a showoff. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s rebuilding Xerxes right now, since the light _is_ directly over the ruin.”

Everyone who had failed to realize the light was over Xerxes felt foolish. Then another wave of shock emanated through the populace. The son of the Sage?

The second half was soon to be forgotten until Mei Chang’s wedding; however, for less than a month after the blaze, a group of travelers came from the desert.  They brought news of the light and its cause, having been there when it occurred.

The tale they told, was that Amestrians had marked out a radius for miles around the ruins, and no travel had been permitted. Even those refugees who had made a home in the ruins had left. There had, however, been whispers about a figure entering the ruins alone. Then there had been strange chiming sound, and as blue light spread out from the ruins, the ground had begun to shake, ad shift, sand changing, melding, and becoming more soil and rocks than sand. Walls erupted as sand poured off them, long buried buildings, forgotten completely, surging upwards in the light, sparks dancing over all, shooting up as far as the eye could see, until they had realized that what had for centuries been believed to be the ruins of Xerxes, had actually been the ruins of the center of the capitol. Towers and pillars, columns and balconies, colonnades and domes, waterways, shaded paths, courtyards, roads, buildings, streets, mansions, all erupted from the sand that had long since buried them. The buildings that had stood, as ruin flowed together, fallen stone blocks moving to fit their lost places once more.

Fountains had flown together and bubbled to life, and the few among the merchants who had some skill in alkahestry declared that it had felt as if a wave swept under the ground, at the leading edge of the tremors, and behind that wave things had felt fresher. As if a lingering corruption from whatever had happened to the great city was now gone. Clean somehow, in the ground, even as the sandy land tossed and shook with the quakes caused by the buried city unearthing itself at long last. In the distance, what had long been believed to be the entire ruin rose higher and higher, and blazed brighter and brighter, until at last, when the light died and their vision cleared, a citadel was there. The great domed roof was no longer in fragments, but whole, clearly a palace or temple, and all around it stood the city of Xerxes, as it must once have been.

The Amestrians and the people of the ruin had entered the city then, and when they emerged, there was someone with them, clad in red, his form and features like those of the desert and the sunset made flesh. They had not heard what he said to the people of the ruins, but they had seemed grateful, and the Amestrians stunned.

And the Emperor knew the entity who had done this, by name. That could not have been a work of men. The greatest of the alkahestrists could not have worked such a feat yet one who was seemingly born of the desert had. It must be that the emperor knew him as one god-touched by another. Truly he was chosen by the gods, as his utter lack of the Royal family’s plight if collapse testified, for it was known that he had been as prone to collapse as any of the before his return as the undying immortal.


	12. Reactions to Xerxes: Hawkeye-unfinished

 

“He’d better have come up with something to do about the soil.” Roy remarked, glancing at the part of the map that read: Desert Area.

“Problem, sir?” she said, hoping this wasn’t another one of his and Edward’s juvenile spats.

“When he asked permission to rebuild Xerxes. I didn’t think about the terrain. I hope he did something to provide a food supply. Arranged for better water circulation from the oasis, at a minimum. How there could have been a kingdom in that wasteland in the first place….”

“Well,” she handed him the Xerxes report, “see for yourself, I suppose.” If he hadn’t noticed the younger alchemist asleep in the corner, she wouldn’t say anything. Edward deserved the rest.

“Wells functional, basic plumbing, underground waterways, crops,” his voice suddenly became incredulous, “requests for mountaineering gear? Since when were there mountains in that wasteland? And what’s this about a surge of greenery? Fullmetal’s good, but come on!”

A yawn from Edward. “Did I just hear you say I’m good, Bastard?”

 Riza wondered how long before she had to discipline them.  Roy glowered. “What’s this about mountaineering Fullmetal? Or the greenery?”

Edward smirked. “Ever look at a map of the kingdom, Bastard Colonel?”

“No,” Roy said slowly, “I haven’t. There was no point, since it was ruined. Although, I did wonder on occasion how it could have ever existed.” She could tell from his tone that he thought he was about to regret saying this.  

Edward’s smirk grew wider. “The map said, on the northwest, ‘Xerxes Forest.’ Then there were ‘great plains of Xerxes,’ around the capital, ‘Xerxes desert,’ off in the east, and ‘Xerxes Mountains,’ in the southeast. I put it all back.   


	13. Myth vs fact- unfinished

“Some say the phoenix is a merciful being because it dies and then re-embraces life so it can see rebirth and the light in everyone.” Ling remarked, looking up at the fireworks. “Some of the legends state that it would be burning on this day, even.”

A golden eye cracked. “Really?”

“Its one of the more commonly held beliefs in Xing. But I don’t know if I believe it myself.”

Ed turned over. “Neither of us is ever going to meet it, so it doesn’t matter. Get some sleep.”

Ling didn’t. Something about what Edward had said bothered him a little, and the way he said it. But he couldn’t think what. Gradually he receded control, drifting into sleep.

Funny, once he would never have dared relax, knowing the danger in it.  But now, he trusted Greed’s possessiveness, if nothing else, to keep him whole. In a way, Ling thought, Greed was a bit like the phoenix himself, reborn form the ashes.

 

It was funny, looking back on it, how wrong Xing had it. The phoenix possessed no mercy. She just didn’t understand the idea. Kindness she understood, and something of cruelty, but most human emotions were foreign to her.


	14. Even in Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually do think this one is finished. I can't remember what I thought before the concussion, but it seems done in a way that the others do not.

When the man known as the Fullmetal Alchemist died, his hair was still shining gold despite his age. Never before had the death of one man driven three nations to tears, but Edward Elric was in all things an exception. Amestris mourned the hero of the Homunculus War who had helped so many of them, Xerxes the man who had given its people a home when he built the city in a transmutation unlike any other, one that lasted a day and the light of which could be seen for miles, and Xing for the friend of their emperor. His family was stricken, and the magnificent bird that had accompanied him vanished.

All the people who had known him were there for his funeral, and though they wore black, there was not one who did not as well wear scarlet and gold. The Emperor came from Xing, and spoke at length of his friend truthfully, his great kindness, his unconscious arrogance born of sure knowledge of his abilities, his wealth of alchemic knowledge unmatched by any peer, and also of his foul temper, lengthy knowledge of curse words, and stubborn strength of will that made the world bend, stubbornness matched only by his refusal to admit his lack of height, and lastly the Emperor spoke of his depth of understanding that would make gods weep. He said that Fullmetal, —though small in stature— had spread such a tall shadow that even he should be proud.

He spoke of another thing, (one that left many mourners frowning,) as he described a plain of light with a great stone gateway, and Edward before it bargaining with the gatekeeper once more to an unknown end. So sure was he that this alchemist was engaged in that bargain even now, while death attempted to pry the scythe from his behind where Edward had shoved it, that many there were given chills. The bird had returned, and at the end of the imperial speech she sang a long, piercing, pure note, and sprang aloft, shining like flames. The Emperor smiled.

And the bird was never again seen in Amestris within living memory, though there were rumors of her on occasion in the court of Xing, where she and the Emperor would remember the last Xerxesian, who had been their friend.

Elsewhere, on another plain of existence:

_'Well al-che-mist? What do you choose? Will you remain in My service? Or will you go on?'_

"Both!" Edward Elric answered, having thought of Al and Winry, but also Areal and the circumstances of his birth. "I know I owe you a few things as well, you grinning white bastard, and I always pay my debts. I'll go on, and you can call me back when you need someone who doesn’t have a beak!"

For the second time in its existence Truth's jaw dropped.

**Author's Note:**

> * It so was, he just won't admit it.   
> ** Fullmetal alchemist series one, episode five


End file.
